


Playing House

by Bidawee



Series: you be the king and i'll be your queen (alternate and captain canon divergence) [2]
Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Clothing Kink, Grinding, Hand Jobs, Lingerie, M/M, Manipulation, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-28
Updated: 2018-07-28
Packaged: 2019-06-17 11:04:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15459963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bidawee/pseuds/Bidawee
Summary: He initially wasn’t sure exactly what to identify the folded lump of clothing as, because its obscure, lacy visage didn’t establish any obvious clues that he could grasp at. It was only the byproduct of lifting the first garment up, and subsequently dropping in, that really grabbed his attention. And by "grabbed" his attention, it was likely more of a wrench, one so powerful it could’ve popped all the veins in his neck.





	Playing House

**Author's Note:**

> [This is a work of fiction and does not accurately depict the people listed inside. Please do not share this on social media nor harass people about it, whether they are in the story or not. Please know that I do not condone abusive and/or manipulative relationships and am only using this as a character study. Thanks.]
> 
> reading over my stories before posting? why would i, a writer, do something so sensible and right when i can just post in the dead of night

His hand was sticky with Auston’s come, still grasping around the base as he massaged the skin there to help Auston ride through his orgasm. The huffing from his partner only increased the more he touched the sensitive skin, trying to wring out the last of the orgasm from through his fingers until there was no possible way Auston could be left unsatisfied with his treatment.

“Easy there Mitch,” he grunted out, voice hoarse from the gruff moans he’d let slip. “You’ll rub me raw.”

“Sorry,” Mitch bit back. He stretched up until his back cracked, trying not to bounce his leg too much. “Are you done?”

“Yeah, one sec.” Auston leaned over and yanked the charger out of his phone, coming dangerously close to rolling off of the bed. Beside the many electronics and hair brushes knocked aside was a box of tissues and a bottle of lube, both of which were swiped as soon as Auston had come to his senses enough to begin to clean up.

Soon after, Auston was wiping his torso with tissues, taking Mitch’s hand without permission to dab at the splotches of come drying there. He discarded the wet tissues in the garbage bin around the side of the end table, moving mechanically and without any urgency.

Auston was completely neglecting Mitch’s straining erection, prompted from watching Auston’s hip jerk up and mouth split to suck in air. Besides that, his motions were loving. Sweet. Not something shared between a couple post-sex. He could’ve roughly wiped the pads of Mitch’s fingers until they stung, but instead, he used the tissue to tickle the joints and knuckles, wrapping the fibres around until they soaked the last of the come up.

It was always a taste of something foreign that he didn’t want to admit.

Because Mitch didn’t want to go back and rekindle whatever sort of relationship they had, but when the playoffs came and went with noticeable disaster, he began to realize his place on the team would be seriously questioned if he didn’t put through. People dedicated a lot to building a good case for his take over. He could see where they were coming from with Auston’s call to greatness, carrying a likeness to that of old legends combined with a hopefulness only youth could bring.

But under Mitch’s care, he was none of those things. The only captaincy he exerted was in his little demands, personalized but never too demanding. Just enough to not be unreasonable. And today’s request was one of them.

It was involuntary, instinct overriding personal desire, he liked to think. But Auston had him wrapped around his finger, and it’d become increasingly hard to look away when they’d shared jerk-off sessions or taken it doggy-style where he couldn’t see how flushed Auston became as a result of Mitch’s clenching. He was left with his doubts, a warped mindset, and confused state of contempt that didn’t know whether or not to feel attraction or anger for Auston.

After a minute of quiet, Mitch assumed he was to take care of his own needs and beat himself off for Auston’s amusement, but his hand could sparsely drop below his groin before Auston shot up and grabbed ahold of it, making sure Mitch couldn’t continue trying to cure his own denied orgasm.

“Hold on,” he sat up, “I left a little something in the bathroom for you. I want you to put it on.”

Mitch deadpanned. “You’re kidding.” He knew today sounded too good to be true; dinner and a show weren’t enough to satisfy Auston’s hunger. Not even close.

“Nope. Go on. I don’t want you doing anything until you’re back.” He smacked Mitch’s ass, coaxing him off the bed as he pointed him in the direction of the ensuite. He looked like a prissy princess not yet taken off his high horse, talking Mitch down with all the disparity he could muster.

Logistically, there was nothing forcing Mitch to not squat down, look Auston in the eye, and come right in front of him. Or better yet, just walk out the door and look after himself later. But, like an announcer chanting play by plays, the voices in the back of his head surged to remind him that this was one of those chances he could take to cement himself as willing to go the extra mile. There were no strings attached, but he would cater to Auston and should be treated as an equal come judgement day. 

Not to mention, at the worst possible time, he was enduring a slump. It strangled the life out of his plays, made him look like a child who’d never held a hockey stick. Now, more than ever, he needed Auston’s power to work in his favour, so he wasn’t in a position to deny him. Auston could be a picky brat, but he was one with a lot of leverage. If Mitch wanted to slip out of media service or get moved up the lines in practice Auston could make it happen.

Part of him wanted to yell and beat against Auston’s chest that he was using him for favours. The other half wanted to keep it concealed because then it became a form of blackmail. It was an unwritten contract between them--nothing permanent--and they both benefitted. Best not make a big deal out of it.

He had to make the best of these final hookups; Auston was looking to secure an arrangement with Willy as his alternate come the next year should Mo fall through and Mitch wasn’t planning on getting between them. So in the meantime, he was going to milk this cow for all it was worth before disaster struck.

What felt like hours of deliberating later, he was finally nodding in obedience and walking to the ensuite as best he could given his predicament. It was uncomfortable at best--he probably looked stupid--but whatever. Let them eat cake.

He flipped the light switch on and got a good look at his debauched self in the pane of glass functioning as the main bathroom mirror. He was a complete mess from the groin up, and beneath, well, he didn’t even want to look. If it wasn’t blue balls it had to be a close relative, and Auston had a knack for teasing it out of him more often than not, the kinky fuck.

The real struggle was identifying exactly what Auston wanted him to find. There was simply too much chaotic action going on with the hand towels and regular towels and pack of shampoo bottles to make sense of the madness.

“On the counter, beside the sink,” Auston cried out, likely sensing that Mitch hadn’t responded in some obscure manner in a lengthy period of time. Mitch rolled his eyes but was inwardly grateful at the well-timed intervention. He didn’t want to have to scour the room for clues.

And that’s when his eyes landed on, well, something. Something white and frilly partially hanging off the side of the marble counter.

He initially wasn’t sure exactly what to identify the folded lump of clothing as, because its obscure, lacy visage didn’t establish any obvious clues that he could grasp at. It was only the byproduct of lifting the first garment up, and subsequently dropping in, that really grabbed his attention. And by "grabbed" his attention, it was likely more of a wrench, one so powerful it could’ve popped all the veins in his neck.

Distinctively, the first thought qualified as some non-verbal tweet, resembling that of a yelp and whimper crossbreed. He didn’t realize his face had tried to find leave in his hands until he was quite literally peeking out from between his fingers.

What was sprawled out on the floor, frilly, white, and certainly expensive, was looked like a white lingerie dress, with long sleeves that had large cuts in the shoulders. It was crochet but made to be sexy. After rummaging through himself to find the bravery to retrieve it, he could see that the dress itself resembled more of a kimono-style outfit, transparent in the stomach with little triangular fringe patterns along the hem that looked like something that belonged on a curtain or tablecloth.

Inside of it, was a matching set of elastic panties, ones so skimpy around the hips that it’d probably pop off if he let out too gusty of an exhale. If they weren’t sewn with such care he’d try kicking them into the garbage just to be rid of both them and the suggestion he should get into them.

He pittered around the room for a second, still working out what the hell he was going to do; what Auston would see when that door swung open and Mitch walked out. It wasn’t that he couldn’t say no, it was more should he. He didn’t feel comfortable slipping them on, trying to suit up and be a pretty girl for Auston to gawk at, but he wasn’t really in a position to argue with him. Mitch only had four goals to his name and December was oncoming with a vengeance. People were speculating that Hanifin and he would be subject to some kind of agreement that would end in him being shipped off to Carolina by season’s end, and that wasn’t an option. Auston could and would save him.

His hands were trembling so much that it was a battle just to get his mind wrapped around the concept of dressing all in lace before actually undergoing the struggle of slipping his legs through the oversized holes of the panties and inching it up his thigh, slowly. The thick cotton mouthed and bit at his skin, adding resistance every leg of the way. They were so dainty in their design he was sure his legs would prove too much for them to bear.

But, they held on. Held on enough to encapsulate his ass and ride themselves halfway up the skin of his erect cock before slowing to a halt. From there it was just tucking himself in, a harder feat than necessary because having his hands around his groin meant the temptation to stroke himself to completion was even more profound. Only by biting his tongue did he maintain control over the situation.

Next was the other thing. The dress. It was a slip on, with the biggest obstacle being the fight to discover what were the armholes, what hung off his shoulder, and where his head should go. The rest was self-explanatory, and he shimmied the rest of the garment down the rest of the way.

Finally, he could look at himself in the mirror and see what became of him. For sure, it was odd. His body structure wasn’t meant to parade the fabrics meant for slim curves, but in a way, he did have the hips for it. They jutted out, thick and imposing, and exaggerated his ass and thighs enough to have the dress’ length justified. His chest was the only lost cause, and even then, his shoulders’ freedom made up for the biceps’ dominating presence.

In his opinion, he looked stupid, but he wasn’t calling the shots. That privilege belonged to someone else just outside of the bathroom, likely growing impatient with Mitch taking his time (not that it was his fault he’d never put on lingerie). So, Mitch quickly splashed some water on his face and strutted out, still adjusting to the weird tightness of his clothing and how it clung to him.

Auston wolf-whistled when Mitch entered the main bedroom and approached the bed, almost appearing introspective in his leering. His hands formed a come-hither motion, cajoling him forward until Mitch had pulled up to the corner, head tucked down and hands behind his back to help fold in himself.

If he noticed, Auston didn’t speak of it. “Wow, Mitchy,” he said, sitting up straight and flashing a predatory grin, “you clean up nice. Look like a real queen of Toronto, our alternate, fucking beautiful.” His fingers were toying with the lace pattern on the sleeves, digging into the tiny holes in the veil.

Although the dress only fell to his mid-thighs, it felt like a full-blown garment that made his every movement clunky and awkward. Mitch was afraid of tripping over himself when he moved, and nowhere was that more than apparent than when he tried to get up on the bed and had to figure out where to put his knees to ensure he wouldn’t fall flat on his face.

Eventually, he succeeded by sitting side-saddle and then swinging his legs over. The rest of the distance was covered by him crawling forward on his hands and knees until he’d planted himself in front of Auston’s spread legs.

Beat red, he snapped up close in Auston’s face, “I’m not an alternate yet, shut up. And I don’t know why you put me in this when you’ve already blown your load.”

“You should show ‘em this, man. Post it everywhere. No one would question you then.”

“You didn’t answer me,” Mitch huffed. He didn’t even try to come back against Auston’s delusions of posting this, but even still he watched Auston’s phone with caution, hoping he wouldn’t take advantage and snap physical evidence.

“I don’t need to be horny to appreciate you in this. This is all for you. Now,” he smacked his thigh, “come on up. Don’t dawdle. I want you to finish on me.”

One good thing that came from their little sexual arrangement or, well, good being subjective but a supplement for something not bad. He could stomach Auston a bit more and let Auston push him around for favours. Being courteous didn’t require as much effort and there was something, whether it be tension or infatuation, there. Mitch’s real fear was the long-term commitment, something Auston would pick at every once in a while, eyes as wide as a beggar’s.

This was different. It was just sex. And it wasn’t the worst thing on planet Earth. He’d been through worse and would go through worse in the future. He swallowed the saliva built up and focused his attention on constraining his clothing so the friction wouldn’t burn imprints into his skin.

The lacy hem was lifted with ease, pulled up past his armpits until it remained bunched around his shoulders and pectoral muscles like a low-sitting choker. Auston’s tree trunk-like legs made it difficult to find a good seating position, resulting in a heck of a lot of fidgeting and squirming until he rested flat. Taking a few cautious breaths, he looked up to gauge Auston’s reaction, receiving a dark look in response that sent him trembling to his toes.

The cotton fabric underneath the dress didn’t leave much up to the imagination, but it did have more give than the lace because of the elastic fitted around the waist. He didn’t want to think they were bought specifically with him in mind, but Auston’s hookup game lacked the fervour it once had and besides, the tasteful knickers were one too many sizes too big for a woman.

Auston set both of his hands on Mitch’s hips, working them up the bony junctures until he’d secured MItch in place. Mitch wished they would harness control and take over the motor operations, but once they’d steadied Mitch, they fell short and waited.

“Well?” Auston prompted, squeezing once, almost like kicking a horse with spurs. The effect was instantaneous, the jolt forcing Mitch to grind down and make a legitimate effort to get moving. “The only one you’re keeping waiting is yourself.”

“I’m going. Just trying to get comfortable.”

Auston rumbled, the noise coming off like a purr. “Of course.”

Even he could admit the first grind was a bit much to bear. Having clothes on didn’t help, because he has to work around the creases and wrinkles that had him rattling when they found his taint. He’d long since blocked out the embarrassing noises cranked out of his mouth, deciding they weren’t worth the effort to conceal. For what it’s worth, it made Auston smile.

Said man wasn’t looking very overencumbered with Mitch’s ministrations and the oversensitivity that came with it. He’d made roost with two pillows cushioning his back, hands switching between Mitch’s hips and the sheets, still debating what would be better.

On the contrary, Mitch was beginning to cook up a sweat as his arousal ballooned. He’d tried rotating his lower abdomen to find what he presumed would be a comfortable position to build a rhythm that worked. The cotton covering his crotch was an entirely new sensation he couldn’t predict or work around. All he could do was ride Auston’s thigh and hope he could bring himself to the edge.

Auston wasn’t participating beyond watching, discerning Mitch’s reactions with a fine-tooth comb. He was happy just watching his hookup drive himself mad with desperation.

Mitch’s positioning in the cowgirl position wasn’t doing him any favours; his neck strained from the back-and-forth of his abnormal thrusting and the inability to find a place to careen his neck so that he could see what he was doing while keeping track of Auston’s reactions. He whined a few times, trying to make that fact known, but Auston was far too incentivized by the captive audience he had at his disposal to make much leeway on Mitch’s situation.

“Auston,” he groaned, after a few minutes of trying to get a steady tempo. “Auston, please.”

“What’s wrong?” he asked, oh-so-innocently.

“Help me,” Mitch panted out through clenched teeth. His hands tried to fist the skin of Auston’s stomach but only hit the rock-solid abs and came up short.

In response. Auston slinked down until he was laying on his back, head cradled by one of the two pillows he’d been using earlier. Mitch followed suit, thriving in the lure of pressing his stomach flat to Auston’s to garner more friction. When Auston’s legs opened up, Mitch took the opportunity to sprawl out in the open space, tucking his head between the crook of Auston’s neck and shoulders to take refuge.

Missionary position gave him the liberty of getting creative with how he ground down to chase the drag of the cotton. Auston’s stomach was his main means of getting friction, and in doing so he had to stamp an arm down beside Auston’s head, collarbone dangling dangerously close to Auston’s face because of the way his shoulders perked.

To adapt to the change in circumstances, Auston had one hand slung over Mitch’s buttocks, the other inching dangerously close to his hole which was obscured by the panties. It latched on and held, as if about to finger him, and added more closure too. Both of the hands helped Mitch with his grinding, morphing into his movements and being the extra push necessary to stop him from slowing down.

Mitch sped up, quite literally collapsing on Auston’s chest and curling both his hands around Auston’s head, locking their mouths together. It made it easier to wiggle his hips and slid forward, Auston’s pointer finger massaging the pucker relentlessly until he squirmed. Now outright hugging Auston, Mitch slumped down, ass up, letting Auston take full control to push him into the final finish.

His dick was tenting the panties, debauched and slick with precum that helped it stick to the head. Coming meant groaning into Auston’s right ear, backside fighting to get the final few thrusts in as he shuddered from above, emptying himself bare for Auston’s liking. The extra grind from the lingerie’s cloth only made the orgasm more powerful.

The sensations didn’t linger, and the wet stick of the panties made him want to shuck them off and flee to the safety of his own residence. But Auston was smarter than he looked, setting their hookups more often than not in the comfort of his bed where the sheets were thick and plush and hard to resist. Dead with the physical exertion of pushing himself to climax, running became another afterthought that was too stressful to act on. So he laid down beside Auston, giving himself space to flail his limbs around as he pulled off the undergarments and tossed them down the side of the bed, horribly stretched.

Heavy petting was almost guaranteed to resume, and seconds after Mitch had settled did he feel the hands stroke his back, feeling the indents where the lace had left an impression in the skin.

“So what,” he began, a laugh croaking in the bottom of his throat, “was this practice for Willy or--” It was a bit of a stretch, but he wanted to feed the relationship between Auston and Willy as much as possible. They complimented each other nicely on the ice, and it meant less of a struggle for Mitch to endure on the sidelines.

However, Auston looked appalled at the notion. “I’m not putting Willy in fucking lingerie Mitch.”

“He’s got the body.” Mitch rolled his pelvis in a circle, making a suggestive groan as he stretched his arms above his head. “Pretty blonde hair. Nice abs. Probably good for a romp in the sack.”

“If I need sex, I’ll come to you,” Auston replied, turning on his side so his back was to Mitch. “Willy can be a fucking nuisance when he wants to be. I hate rooming with him.” The hostility in his tone raised Mitch’s eyebrows, noticeably high-strung for someone like Auston to be using in regards to a close friend. But it wasn't out of the ordinary, weeks prior Mitch received Auston's complaints about Mo’s leadership style and the direction he was taking the team in. With Auston, it was a mixed bag.

“You’re just being picky. Give it time. If Mo doesn’t work out, you’ll need him to carry you through the playoffs.”

Auston was combing the hair budding at his nape up, curling the wispy ends around his finger. He didn’t make an effort to respond, measuring Mitch’s response time and how his spine quaked whenever Auston was touching him. More often than not, Mitch found the man captured in the midst of some deep thought, not as verbal during sex, acting when he should be talking. It would be unnerving, but in all honesty, he was just happy he wasn’t being called a mind fucked slut anymore to justify some boyhood crush gone bad.

Still, the eyes that followed him made him fear Auston was becoming more attached to their arrangement than he should be. The same eyes that scrutinized him at practice would dig at the seams when he was riding Auston or sucking his cock and make sure to degrade Mitch to the lowest calibre rank as a human being. It made the aftercare and circles rubbed into his skin a waning flag.

He didn’t have it in him to complain when Auston pulled the duvet over him and helped him settle in, washing him down with a damp washcloth and mussing with his hair until it was parted in the correct fashion. He watched as Auston disposed of the soiled lingerie in a drawer where the other sexual misadventures had been laid to rest resided, then walking back with his shoulder hiked high.

“Soon, Mitchy,” he said. “Season’s almost over.”

“Season’s almost over,” Mitch parroted back, not sure of what he was trying to reassure Auston of or what Auston wanted in the first place. Auston’s lips grazed his upturned cheek, not committing to a kiss but tied to pressing the skin down. “Many to come,” he groggily added.

“Yeah, many to come.” Auston reared back. “And we’ll be Leafs throughout it all. Captains, even.”

Mitch opened one eye. “I fear for anyone having to take orders from you as captain.”

“Of course you would say that, little minx. You’re tired. Get some shut eye and we’ll go for breakfast tomorrow. We’ll see what you think of me as a captain then.”

It sounded like something to argue about, not something spoken in the throes of the bedroom after sex, but Mitch couldn’t keep his eyes open, couldn’t play along anymore. He paid the toll and was safe for another month.

That’s all that was important.

**Author's Note:**

> > mitch's picked outfit https://www.boutiquefeel.com/pc/product_detail?productId=03b2f65c-5238-4db7-bc96-a8996d4be480&utm_source=google&utm_sku=FQ7777-w-2XL-boutique&utm_currency=CAD&gclid=Cj0KCQjwnNvaBRCmARIsAOfZq-1bQWBHS8gH1NqA03TApJ7GdA0BoX5qoNB3W4tKa0IlNfRYbMfE9AoaAhlfEALw_wcB
> 
> come chat with me @cursivecherrypicking on tumblr!


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